“What’s wrong?” Avery demanded as soon as they left the ballroom and stood in the pink-wallpapered anteroom.
“AH-CHOO!” Tristan sneezed again, and then three more times. He leaned against the wall for balance as he dragged the back of his hand under his nose.
Um, ew?
“It’s you.” He shook his head ruefully. “Oh no, I mean, it’s not you, you’re beautiful,” he backtracked. He sneezed again, a thin arc of green snot landing dangerously close to Avery’s dress. “Oh my God, I thought I was over this,” he exclaimed. He held out his hand as if to touch Avery’s shoulder, but she backed away, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. She could not believe her date had turned out to be a biohazard.
“It’s your perfume.” He sneezed again. “And those flowers.” He nodded at the thin glass bowls of delicate orchids on the cocktail tables around the room. “I’m sorry. I should probably call my allergist. Are you still up for the Met tomorrow?” he asked. Avery saw a hopeful glint in his runny blue eyes, but she shook her head firmly. She wasn’t that desperate. Tristan hurried away, sneezing the whole time.
Avery watched his broad, retreating back and sighed heavily. She sniffed her wrist. Maybe she exuded some type of undiscovered pheromone that repelled men.
She walked over to a window and looked out at Manhattan. The buildings seemed to wink back at her mockingly. How come whenever she got so close to living her New York City dream, everything fell apart? She sighed. She knew that she should hold her chin high and march back into the auction, but somehow, she couldn’t. Instead, she turned toward the elevator and pressed the gold button again and again until the elevator doors slid mercifully open. She might as well just go back to her apartment and never leave again.
Inside, the auction was rolling on and the guests were getting even more rowdy. Even the parents who’d stayed were whooping every time a girl raised her bid on one of the swimmers. Jack wondered where Avery had run off to, and why her boyfriend had seemed to be allergic to her. But she had more important things to attend to. She clutched her wallet nervously. Owen was next to be auctioned off, and, as his date, she was sort of required to bid on him. She hoped he wasn’t too expensive, but then again, who wanted something cheap?
A true conundrum.
“Okay, these two gentlemen lead the team, so I’m going to put them head-to-head,” Coach jovially announced. “A little friendly competition to toughen them up.”
He has no idea.
Owen glanced sideways at Rhys as he shuffled from foot to foot. Except for practice, he’d barely seen Rhys over the last few weeks. His friend looked tanned and relaxed, as if he’d been on vacation. Owen smiled awkwardly. “Hey buddy,” he whispered. Rhys nodded happily back.
“Okay, let’s get this started. Rhys Sterling. Let’s hear it.” Coach pushed Rhys to the front of the stage.
“Two hundred dollars.” Kelsey held up her paddle. Rhys blew a kiss over to her, managing to come off romantic rather than cheesy.
Jack glanced at the stage. Owen looked handsome, but he also looked like he was going to vomit all over the stage.
“Two hundred dollars. What does that include?” Coach leered. “Okay, so we’re going to hold Rhys at two Franklins, and see if anyone wants to match that—for Owen Carlyle?”
Around the elegant event space, tipsy schoolgirls whispered to one another fervently, pooling their money and daring each other to bid.
Jack held up her paddle before anyone else could. “Two hundred fifty dollars. For my boyfriend,” she added, shooting the general female populace a “back the fuck off” glare. She glowered at J.P., who was holding Baby’s hand in his and examining it like a fucking palm reader.
“Five hundred!” A skinny, goateed guy in the back of the room shot up his hand, waving his paddle wildly.
“Okay, well…” Coach looked around the room. A hush had fallen, and the tips of Owen’s ears turned bright red.
“So we’ve got five hundred for Carlyle and two hundred for Sterling.… Anyone else want Sterling?” Coach looked around the room hopefully.
“Three hundred,” Kelsey cried, bidding over herself. Jack grimaced.
“Okay, so, Sterling for three hundred and Carlyle for five hundred. Going once, going twice.…” Coach scanned the room one last time, and Jack felt her stomach form a tight knot. She hated how seriously everyone was taking this, as if it were fucking Sotheby’s. She’d have to fucking buy her fucking imaginary boyfriend with imaginary money.
“Six hundred for Owen.” Jack held up her paddle in the air.
“Sold!” Coach pounded the gavel. Owen’s face broke into a wide, relieved grin. He and Rhys hugged each other good-naturedly and walked back to the table to a smattering of applause.
“Thanks, babe.” Owen came back to the table and brushed his lips against Jack’s cheek. She felt a weird flutter in her stomach.
“Hey, you’re worth it,” Jack teased, even though the thought of paying six hundred dollars was making her a little sick. Onstage, Hugh Moore was being auctioned off. Jack rolled her eyes. They’d made out once, in eighth grade, the first time Jack had ever gotten drunk at a party. She’d had four tequila shots and had ended up with him in his parents’ bedroom. They’d been discovered by his buttoned-up society hostess mother, who’d given them a ridiculously unnecessary facts-of-life talk right there—even though all they’d been doing was fully clothed kissing. Not something Jack wanted to think about right now.
“Two hundred and fifty dollars!” Jack heard Jiffy’s frantic voice ring out through the crowd. Jiffy was practically drooling. Ugh. She could have Hugh Moore.
Hugh whooped and snaked down the steps to Jiffy, where they kissed for way longer than was strictly necessary, or decent.
“Okay!” Coach stepped back up onto the podium. “Since all my boys donated themselves to the cause, I figured it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t do it too. Let’s begin. I’m going to open the bidding at five hundred dollars. And remember, I’m a lonely man who doesn’t have a wife to stand up for me.” Coach made puppy dog eyes and Jack sighed, drinking the rest of her drink. Couldn’t they get on with things? How much longer was this going to take?
And what, exactly, does she have in mind for later?
“Three thousand!” A clarion voice suddenly rang out from one of the parent tables near the back. Even the waiters craned their heads to look. Jack saw Genevieve holding her honey blond head in her hands, shaking it back and forth slowly, as her obviously hammered mom stood up and wavered her way up to the podium. Jack was instantly glad her mother never came to school events.
Only because she never tells her about them.
Coach blushed and quickly buttoned up his shirt. “Okay, auction’s over!” he announced into the microphone. He ceremoniously banged the gavel as the band in the corner started up a merry rendition of “The Lady Is a Tramp.”
Impeccable timing.
dancing cheek to cheek… ish
“So, what’s up, buddy?” Rhys leaned over to Owen, who was glaring into his ruby red vodka-spiked Slippery Seal cocktail as if it held the secret to the universe. “We did pretty good up there.”
“Yeah,” Owen replied shortly. He glanced at Kelsey, engaged in an earnest conversation with Baby. She was animatedly talking with her hands, as if she didn’t care who might be watching her. Owen knew she didn’t, which was what had always drawn him to her, from the night they’d met. She was beautiful and irreverent and just so free… and totally convinced he was a soulless asshole. Owen shook his head. He needed to get very, very drunk.
“So, you and Jack seem really good together,” Rhys offered.
“Yeah.” Owen shrugged. He felt like hitting something, or pulling off his tux and diving into the Hudson River.
Hmm… the ripping off the tux part sounds intriguing. . . .
“Look, dude, are you okay? I know it’s been awkward recently, and I’m sorry we haven’t been able to hang out more. It’s just … I’ve been spendi
ng a lot of time with Kelsey, and, well… she’d rather not be around you. I’m sorry, man. I think she thinks you’re just a player. I don’t really know why, but you know girls. They gossip about everybody and then decide some things are true.” Rhys lowered his voice, hoping he hadn’t done the wrong thing by telling Owen how Kelsey really felt. But the thing was, he’d missed hanging out with Owen, and his buddy needed to know the real reason why things had been so weird recently.
“No, it’s cool.” Owen pounded the vodka in his flask. He liked the way it burned his throat.
“But we can still hang out,” Rhys said in concern. Owen seemed truly upset. Girls always got so mad when their friends ditched them for their significant others. That must be how Owen felt. He didn’t want to be that type of friend.
“Hey, actually, since you are such a ladies’ man…” Rhys smiled, hoping the praise would pump his buddy up. Just a few weeks ago, Owen had always been there for him. Even when he’d had the ludicrous idea of stalking Kelsey wearing a ’70s suit, Owen had been there. “Listen, I need your advice,” Rhys lowered his voice, but Baby and Kelsey were still deep in conversation, giggling like long-lost best friends.
“Kelsey and I are going to do it tonight,” Rhys confessed. He felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine. He couldn’t believe it was finally going to happen. He’d rented out one of the suites upstairs and had everything set up flawlessly. He and Kelsey had even talked about it, so there’d be no surprises tonight: just loving, romantic perfection. He made a mental note not to drink any more champagne. He wanted to remember every single moment.
Owen coughed. “What?”
Rhys whacked him on the back. “You okay?”
“I’m fine!” Owen sputtered, backing away as if Rhys had punched him in the gut.
“You sure? I can get Jack to come and administer CPR,” Rhys said, trying to make a joke.
“No!” Owen practically yelled. “I think I just… ah, need some air,” he gasped. He exploded from the stuffy room, his head hammering. Outside of the ballroom, he sat down on a pink love seat and sighed heavily. A security guard eyed him with curiosity.
“Are you okay, sir?”
Owen locked eyes with the security guard and nodded. “Fine.” Except my whole fucking life is falling apart. The guard nodded back and wandered into the ballroom.
Owen pulled himself to a standing position and hurtled toward the heavy oak door on the opposite wall. He wasn’t sure where the door led, but he just needed to get out.
And into… a ladies’ room?
Jack sighed as she gazed at her reflection in the plate-glass windows. She was more than dressed for the occasion, in a never-worn mid-thigh brown Chanel dress she’d bought in Paris over the summer and found in the back of her closet, with dainty black Louboutins. But something felt off. Was it her imagination or did her arms seem more slack and rounded than they had been before? She turned to the center of the dance floor and saw Baby and J.P. dancing close together, oblivious to the staggering couples all around them. Her head only reached his shoulder. When J.P. and Jack had danced together, she was always at eye level with him. At warm, chocolate brown eye level. She picked up her half-full drink and took a long sip, hoping to ease the pain of seeing her ex so obviously head over heels.
“Are you okay?” Jack looked up to see Jiffy drunkenly staggering toward her, Hugh in tow. Jack grimaced. She really hated when her friends had boyfriends, especially when she didn’t. She needed Owen to come back now so at least she wouldn’t feel so alone. Where the hell was he, anyway?
She grabbed a small chocolate tart from a silver platter a tuxedoed waiter was holding so she wouldn’t have to answer Jiffy’s question. She popped it in her mouth and grabbed another one before the waiter left. Fuck it, she might as well just get fat.
“This is so much fun!” Jiffy slurred obliviously as she sloppily kissed Hugh. She plunked down in Owen’s empty chair, pulling Hugh on top of her. It was amazing how only a few drinks could turn Jiffy into a Girls Gone Wild video. Jack glanced around. Genevieve was sitting in the corner with a flask and her Treo, probably plotting her move to California. She always did that when she felt unappreciated.
Just then, Rhys came over to the table, holding two drinks. “Hey… want one?” He cleared his throat and offered her a glass. She gratefully accepted, sipping carefully so the liquid didn’t splash on her dress. She loved when guys waited on her. Who cared if it was anti-feminist or whatever? She was a lady, after all.
Just without a Prince Charming.
“Looks like our dates are gone,” Jack realized, peering around the table. “Wanna go look for them?” She couldn’t deal with being surrounded by couples making out anymore.
“Sure,” Rhys agreed. He laced his arm with hers as they strode out of the ballroom.
l-o-v-e
“I heard they’re getting engaged.” Jiffy poked Hugh Moore hard.
“Huh?” Hugh looked over from their now empty table in the direction of the dance floor.
Baby sighed and nuzzled into J.P.’s neck. He smelled like a mixture of laundry detergent and leather. It was a good smell, but she found she sometimes missed the random, less staid smells of pot, or the beach.
Or pink cigarettes?
She leaned closer into him. The band had long ago packed up, and right now the DJ was playing a weird Justin Timberlake/Madonna remix. Baby couldn’t believe how lame it was, but J.P. really seemed into it. Not like Baby was surprised. He was as mainstream as she was alternative. But, seriously, Justin Timberlake? She could only imagine how much Sydney would make fun of them. Hell, Sydney had made fun of her for even attending this party, even though it wasn’t like she really had a choice.
“Hey.” She looked up at J.P., who was humming under his breath. Baby smiled, hoping he’d get the hint that she was ready to go.
Somewhere more private?
“Do you want to go find that photographer? It’d be great to have pictures from tonight,” J.P. suggested. Baby nodded, trying to conceal a sigh. She didn’t want a picture of this. It all felt so fake. She’d much rather have a picture of the two of them lying on the East Lawn in Central Park, or holding hands as they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, or just anywhere else. She sighed in frustration.
“You okay?” he asked softly. Baby nodded, even though her feet hurt, her Tatyana Cashman–approved dress felt way too tight, and she was just ready to get out. They could go back to her apartment and hang out on the terrace. Just as she was about to suggest it to J.P., he fished into the pocket of his Armani jacket and pulled out a small box. CARTIER was spelled across the top in gold-leaf script. Baby felt a vague sense of panic rising into her throat, the way she felt right before she dove into the icy cold Nantucket ocean. She knew what was about to happen but was in too deep to back out.
“I thought you’d like this.” J.P. smiled shyly as he pushed the box toward her. Wordlessly, she took it out of his hands and removed the lid. Nestled inside the black velvet was a white-gold necklace. The word love was spelled out in tiny lowercase letters, each letter hanging pendantlike on the delicate chain.
“It’s just something small,” J.P. amended when he saw the distraught expression on her face. The necklace was beautiful, the white gold on each of the tiny letters capturing the ballroom’s dim light. It was just something she’d never, ever wear. He pulled it out of the box, and she shivered as his hand brushed against her bare neck. She sort of felt like the necklace was choking her, each tiny letter weighing her down.
“Thanks.” She managed a tiny smile. J.P.’s brown eyes were so trusting. They reminded her of the way his dog, Nemo, looked when he really wanted a walk. Suddenly, she was aware that everyone around them was looking at them with curiosity. She needed to get out.
“Do you want to do the Barcelona?” she asked urgently. She searched his sharp cheekbones and intelligent brown eyes and thought she saw a flicker of doubt in the way his mouth slightly tightened. Baby sucked in her breath. If
he said no, then that was it. But if he said yes . . .
“Okay.” J.P. nodded, his face cracking into a wide grin. “Now?”
“Yeah,” Baby whispered, even though she wanted to scream, Yes, yes, yes! For once, J.P. really surprised her, and not for his lamer-than-average taste in music. She looked around but couldn’t see Owen or Avery anywhere. She’d just call them later, once they were at the airport. She didn’t want J.P. to lose his enthusiasm.
“Let’s do it!” Baby exclaimed wildly. J.P. kissed her on the lips and Baby felt a warm rush of gooey romance. Maybe they were two of a kind. His eyes were flickering in excitement, and suddenly Baby felt her stomach flip-flop as if she were in a free fall. Once they got to Barcelona, who knew what would happen? Baby kissed him, harder and more urgently this time.
“Let’s leave now and get our passports,” J.P. whispered as his hands played in her tangled hair. Baby nodded excitedly.
Taxi!
restrooms aren’t just for resting
Owen could hear the thumping DJ music in the next room as he leaned against the wall, finally alone for the first time tonight. He looked around. Judging by the lavender scent and pink- and orchid-colored walls, this was definitely the lounge part of a ladies’ room. Instead of couches, bathtubs filled with pink and purple pillows were set up around the perimeter of the room.
Owen climbed into one of the tubs and relaxed against the plush pillows. He sighed heavily. Girls had it so easy. They had the best bathrooms, their choice of guys.… He took a sip from his half-full flask and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above the tub. He looked wild-eyed and miserable.
Just then, the door opened, and Kelsey wobbled in on four-inch stilettos, as if bidden by some sort of crossed-wire ESP. Owen rubbed his eyes.
“What are you doing in the ladies’ room? What, is this how you get girls?” she asked, her voice clipped. Behind her, the door slammed shut ominously. Kelsey’s blue eyes were snapping, but she still looked stunningly, achingly beautiful.
You Just Can't Get Enough Page 15
